Lost
by silvershard
Summary: Will Squall succumb to his agony - or will he find his savior after all? (rated for violence, self-injury, sexual content in future chapters)
1. Silver and Red

If I owned it, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfic.  
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He felt it building, an uncontrollable urge that soon spiraled infinitely through him; echoes of anguish and torment that wrapped around his spine, permeating every nerve throughout his body. The walls seemed to be closing in on him, squeezing the life out of one very nervous brunette. He began to fall into the trance that he'd started to realize shouldn't be taken lightly – the one where his hand seemed to move of its own volition, worming into the back of his bottom dresser drawer, prying out the small matchbox that held the glittering metal that had become his salvation.  
The steady, ethereal beat of music filtered through the speakers of his computer, slowly fading into background, noise that meant nothing as he listened to the blood pounding in his ears. Breathing raggedly, it seemed as if steel bands wrapped around his chest, forcing the painful hyperventilation that accompanied his panic.  
_Can't... oh, Hyne, don't let me fall again... don't let me be so fucking weak, don't let... me..._  
Prayers felt thick and muddled in his mind as he slowly drew the razorblade up his forearm, increasing the pressure as he went. He exhaled sharply, feeling the dizzying pain flutter through him and fade into the oblivion he was seeking. Again, and again, and again... increasing the pace, rapid, angry slashes, over and over, cutting until he could no longer breathe, a red haze of warm contentment rushing through him. The blade slipped through his fingers as he watched himself bleed, the room fuzzy and spinning, watery to his eyes. His gaze fluttered to the pictures on his nightstand, and he smiled; listening to the blonde-haired boy in the photo rapping smartly on his door.  
"Squall?  
Unable to answer, he relinquished his hold on consciousness, slipping quietly into oblivion.  
  
To be continued...? 


	2. Icy Interlude

If I owned it, I wouldn't be sitting here writing fanfic. Italics denote thoughts or trances.  
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It hurt.  
  
Dear Hyne, it hurt.  
  
What hurt more was the way his eyes slowly crept open... in disbelief that death could be so painful. And yet he woke carefully to bright white, wondering how white could possibly be a soothing, healing color, and cursed hoarsely, slowly focusing on the face in front of him.  
  
A wry grin. "You should be more careful. You don't deserve that gunblade if you fuck yourself up that badly cleaning it." A startled glance, and Squall began to respond that no, that wasn't what – but a flicker of warning in the sky-blue orbs gazing down at him made him reconsider. Seeing the doctor just past the broad shoulder, he nodded, once. _Thank you, Seifer.  
_  
"Well, come on, then. I'm on wuss-duty now – you're staying with me until you're ok on your own."  
  
"..." _What the hell?_ Squall's eyes glinted darkly and he moved to sit – but inhaled sharply, clenching the sheets in his fists as the room spun.  
  
"You cracked your head pretty good when you fell," Seifer smirked. His gaze widened slightly as he watched Squall's oceanic orbs – the expression suddenly distant, so very removed from reality that he seemed to be one of the living dead.  
  
"Squall," the ice goddess murmured. His name echoed through the wide caverns, stalactites shimmering like glass in the unnatural cold. His name drifted over him like the gentlest of snowflakes, a cooling breath of relief that smothered the agony of his devastated flesh. Smiling thinly, he fell into her arms, letting Shiva wrap her sparkling diamond dust around him, a numbing blanket that let the world fade away.  
  
The cold steel tray – and all of its various medical implements – crashed hard to the floor as Seifer stood up all at once. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, gazing down at Squall uncomprehendingly. The boy's eyes shone with icy distance – something few have experienced up close, due to his status as "resident loner."  
  
"He does that a lot," Dr. Kadowaki replied, narrowing her eyes in annoyance, beginning to reassemble the disheveled tray. "He retreats with Shiva whenever there's something he doesn't want to deal with." She sighed, slowly wiping up a hi-potion that truly could have been useful to the bruised-and-bloody Squall. "You were fortunate to come across him when you did - he could have bled to death." Pausing, she turned, giving Seifer a questioning glance. "How did you come across him anyway?"  
  
_What the hell am I supposed to tell her? "Oh, well, I was coming to his dorm to beat the motherloving crap out of him, and broke his door down when I heard his body hit the floor... you know, I guess he did the work for me." For fuck's sake._ "We were cleaning our gunblades in the quad and he hit the ground before I got a glimpse of what the hell he did. Fuckin' moron," he muttered, glaring down at the prone boy.  
  
"He must have been distracted... Well, you have your orders, Seifer. And for Hyne's sake, BEHAVE yourself!" Dr. Kadowaki gave him one more stern look for good measure, and waved a dismissive hand. "Stay in his dorm, it's larger. Bring him back in two weeks for a check-up."  
  
_Two weeks with fuck-rat and I gotta stay in HIS room? There goes my sex life... or what's left of it._


	3. Revelations

You know the drill. If you want me to keep writing, please, let me know.   
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In the far recesses of his mind, he wondered if one of the scariest feelings in the world is waking up, opening your eyes - and seeing the same as if they were closed. However, seeing as the rational mind doesn't particularly care to intervene with reality - he screamed.  
  
Flailing, shuddering, he began to sob in the darkness before it gradually leaked away, the night's hold on him relenting as his fear took its place. _Where am I?_, he cried frantically, screaming into the recesses of his consciousness, begging silently for reassurance, for the calm oblivion of Shiva's realm.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" a bland, dry voice replied to his agony. Turning, Squall cautiously peered across the room - still slightly fuzzy, but getting better with each moment. _S...Seifer? Here? But..._ "I can't see," he whispered quietly.  
  
"You got one hell of a concussion," Seifer replied, flopping down on the foot of Squall's bed restlessly. "What the hell were you doing to yourself? Are you fucking insane?"  
  
Cold. So cold. He felt freezing inside, suddenly ashamed of his actions, tears streaming in his heart where they were safe - where the scorn of his peers would not touch them. He missed the odd expression on Seifer's face as he traced his fingers down his arm, almost moaning in relief at the sharp jolts of pain. _So beautiful... so free_, he murmured silently to himself, eyes half-closing in dazed relaxation. Ironically, this was the only time, the only place where the agony, the nightmares, didn't follow him, echoing his every move.  
  
"Squall?" _What the fuck is wrong with him?_ It seemed almost as if Seifer's world was turning slightly, twisting the edges and boundaries, a strange mixture of what he knew and what he could never think of. Squall, the Ice Prince - cold, emotionless, sterile. The epitome of human distance. And yet...  
  
And yet, agony was etched into his flesh, a painful reminder of what must lay inside behind walls, trapped for what must seem like eternity to its victim. How many nights have seen Squall bleed his tears? How many days have seen an overexuberant Selphie latch herself onto a scarred and possibly bloody arm, bouncing and ranting at him, possibly simply reminding him of his own inner pain? No one mutilated themselves this badly for no reason. No one rended flesh from bone so very deeply if there wasn't something seriously, dreadfully wrong.  
  
And through it all, suspecting there was more, knowing something wasn't right -  
  
Seifer never said a word.


End file.
